


Love in an Elevator - TWO

by Secretlyademigodinthetardis



Series: Love in an Elevator [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Claustrophobia, Dean Mary and John Winchester, Fluff and Angst, Fluffy Ending, Happy Ending, Imagine your OTP, M/M, Mechanic Dean, Mechanic Dean Winchester, No Character Death, One alternate ending, Panic Attacks, Teacher Castiel, Unbeta'd, happiness, stuck in an elevator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-24
Updated: 2014-07-24
Packaged: 2018-02-10 05:36:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2012979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Secretlyademigodinthetardis/pseuds/Secretlyademigodinthetardis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>THIS IS THE ALTERNATE HAPPY ENDING INSTEAD OF THE OTHER ONE WHICH IS ALSO CALLED LOVE IN AN ELEVATOR. Based off the "Imagine your OTP stuck in an elevator after a fight" prompt. Got angstier than I thought it would. Note - this has ONE of TWO endings I had planned for this fic, the other one is sad as heck.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love in an Elevator - TWO

**Author's Note:**

> What began as a vague idea for elevator smut did not, in fact, become elevator smut. Instead I found myself writing this at 1:30am last night before sending it - with both alternate endings - for her feedback. When she saw me at uni the next day she still hadn't read it because she'd been asleep. She then read it and almost slapped me. I'M SORRY LOU.
> 
> So yeah, this is the one with the happy ending and NO SAD DEATH STUFF. I promise. Fluffy ending.
> 
> Apologies for shit quality, as usual. I did go back and edit it and bulk it out slightly before posting, so I hope that's sort of detracted from the general crap.

“Hey, Winchester!” Castiel shouted as he saw the back of his neighbour’s leather jacket disappear into their apartment complex. Finally, _finally_ he had the opportunity – and the guts – to confront his (ridiculously attractive) douchebag neighbour about the frankly ridiculous lack of volume control the man had on his television.

Dean Winchester turned around as he entered the lobby, eyebrows raised. “Whaddaya want, Novak?” he asked gruffly, successfully hiding how much the sight of a riled up Castiel Novak turned him on.

“Your _fucking_ volume control actually _being controlled_ would be a great start,” Castiel snarled as they glared at one another in the dingy lobby, waiting for the elevator. “I was trying to grade some tests last night and all I could hear – in excruciating detail, I might add – was the sound of one Dr Piccolo telling another doctor how much of a coward he was!”

Dean winced and felt himself blushing. _No one_ was supposed to know about his love of Dr Sexy. “Dude, I had it pretty damn quiet, you know. Not my fault the walls are so frigging thin.”

“I don’t care! I couldn’t give a rats ass about your stupid TV show!” Castiel was lying through his teeth – he owned every season of Dr Sexy on DVD, not that he was about to tell Dean that – and he glowered up at Dean. “I couldn’t concentrate on my work because of your fucking soap opera!”

The swearing really shouldn’t have been as much of a turn on as it was. The elevator gave a weak ding and the doors slid open, Dean and Castiel stepping in and Castiel thumping the button for the fourth floor. Dean rolled his eyes. “Chill out, man. I’m sure your students are gonna survive not knowing the results for one stupid class quiz for one day.”

“ _It was an in class assessment worth 30% of the entire year’s grade,”_ Castiel hissed. “God, you’re so obnoxious, you don’t even pay attention to anything that might affect someone else, do you?”

“Hey-” Dean began to retort, but at that point the elevator juddered to a halt. However, the doors remained firmly closed. “Um, I’m pretty sure we aren’t at the fourth floor. Are they meant to be like that? What’s going on?” His voice grew steadily more horrified and panicked, and Castiel rolled his eyes, oblivious to Dean’s growing dread.

“Clearly the elevator has broken down. And now we have to wait for someone to come and help us.”

“Fucking great,” Dean whimpered, slumping in the corner and bringing his knees up to his chest so he could bury his face. His next words, though muffled and alarmed, were clearly audible. “Of all people to be stuck in a fucking elevator with, I have to be stuck with my stick-in-the-ass neighbour.”

Castiel had just pressed the “if an emergency occurs, press for secursecurity” button, and his head whipped around. “Excuse me?”

“You heard,” Dean grumbled, but most of the fight had left him as the anxiety set in. His blue eyed neighbour (eyes should not be that shade of blue, not legally anyhow) scowled as Dean continued, staving off the inevitable panic attack as he attempted to distract himself. “I tried to be nice when you first moved in, and you were a complete dick to me, so I dunno where the hell you get off tellin’ me I’m obnoxious. I fuckin’ tried, dude.”

There was silence in the elevator – minus Dean’s breathing, which was getting steadily more ragged – as Castiel sifted through his vague memories of when he first moved in to the apartment, after his rather explosive break up with Crowley. Dean probably had been nice, he supposed, he’d just been rather wrapped up in his own misery and irritability to notice. Speaking of not noticing….as he peered at the other man, he realised Dean had gone a nasty shade of green. Ah. He probably should’ve cottoned on sooner. 

“I’m…sorry?” he tried, taking cautious steps towards the curled up man. 

Dean snorted frantically, desperately trying to avoid the cold terror currently gripping at his heart.“Little late for that, don’t ya think Cas? I mean, we’re about to die and all.” His face was no longer entirely hidden by his forearms, eyes peeping over his sleeves so they were darting everywhere uncontrollably. “Fuck, better call Sammy, tell him he’s the last Winchester now.”

He pulled out his phone and dialled, sending up a brief prayer of thanks to whatever gods existed that there were a few bars of signal available. “Sammy? Yeah, it’s me. Um. I’m stuck in a broken elevator. I know, right? So yeah. If you never hear from me again, it’s because I’m dead. What? No, no, I’m not alone. I’m uh…I’m with my neighbour, Cas.” Dean looked up at Castiel mid-babble, green eyes wide, before continuing to speak in a reassuring tone that contrasted heavily with his flustered demeanour. “Nah, he’s a cool guy, best neighbour I’ve ever had, actually. I’m fine Sammy, jeez, just saying goodbye before I die.”

_Why is he lying? Less than a minute ago we were arguing, and now he looks like he’s going to be sick_ , Castiel thought. At something Sam said to Dean, Dean’s astonishingly green eyes flickered up to Castiel’s face uncertainly. 

“Um, sure? If you want?” Dean held out the phone to Castiel. “My brother wants to talk to you in our last moments of life instead of me, so um…..” he shrugged. Castiel raised an eyebrow, but plcked the phone from his hands.

“Hello?”

 _“Hi, um, Cas, is it?”_ A young man’s tinny voice came through the phone, and Castiel pressed it to his ear uncertainly.

“Yes?”

 _“Okay, so I don’t know you, and you don’t know me, and I’m really sorry about this. Hi, I’m Sam by the way. Dean’s brother. Anyway, Dean tends to…freak out. In situations like this. He hates flying, he hates basically anything involving being remotely airborne with no control, and I’m like 99% sure he’s about to have a full-blown panic attack. So uh….you may need to help out with that. He said you guys are friends?”_ Sam Winchester sounded hesitant, and Castiel rushed to put his mind at ease.

“No, no, of course. I have experience. We’ll be fine. Thank you, Sam.”

 _“Thanks, man. Really. I dunno what I’d do – what Dean would do – if he didn’t have someone there with him right now.”_ Sheer gratitude emanated from Sam’s end, and Castiel bit his lip. _“Uh, yeah, that was all I really wanted to say. Just make sure he doesn’t do something stupid? I’ll talk to him again now. Nice to meet you.”_

“Nice to meet you too, Sam,” Castiel murmured, before passing the cellphone back to a wide-eyed Dean, who latched onto it immediately.

“Sammy? What’d you say? What? Why’d you – shit, man, why’d you fucking tell my neighbour I turn into a freaking child in an elevator? Not cool, man. Not. Cool. Yeah, yeah, bitch, just make sure my funeral is fucking awesome, kay? And ask your damn girlfriend to marry you before she realises how much of a sissy you are. Yeah I know. Okay. Okay!” his voice became more subdued. “Sorry, Sammy. I just….yeah. Okay. Bye.” Vaguely mournful, he hung up and stared at his screen blankly before sliding his phone back into his pocket and staring into space once more, knuckles tightening as his breathing picked up alarmingly.

Castiel sat down next to him, so that their sides pressed together and Dean was able to feel the solid, warm body next to him. “So. Confined spaces, huh?” he asked, trying to sound light. Dean glared, face now taut and pale.

“Not. Fucking. Helping.” He gasped out, rocking slightly.

“I once taught elementary, you know,” Castiel continued, ignoring him. “There was a 6 year old boy in my class, Samandriel, and he used to have panic attacks in class when he saw the posters for the Bugs unit we did. I used to have to calm him down by having him sit on my lap while everyone else had ‘quiet reading time’ and I would have to sing the song from Hercules to him – the one about being a true hero? – until his parents picked him up. It was the only thing that would calm him down.” As he spoke, Dean slowly emerged, a shy hand creeping over as his breathing relaxed so he could grasp Castiel’s hand. “I’m sure you wouldn’t want to sit on my lap, and my singing voice is pretty terrible….”

“I wouldn’t mind,” Dean rasped, still tightly gripping Castiel’s hand in order to ground himself. At Castiel’s expression, he blushed. “Not…you know…just….ugh, fuck I’m gonna fucking _die in here fucking shit.”_

“Dean!” Castiel grabbed Dean’s chin with his free hand and looked into his eyes, which were showing far too much white. “We are not going to die. We are safe, you are safe with me. I won’t let anything hurt you. Okay? The security men will be here very soon, and we aren’t in any danger at all. Did you know, I kind of hate this apartment complex? The only reason I moved here was because I broke up with my boyfriend. He’s kind of a colossal dick, and he let my flowers die. The bees that visited stopped visiting, and when I shouted at him because of that, we had a massive fight and I left him. I like bees. He didn’t understand. So I moved into the apartment next to yours, and the window-box is barely able to sustain mould, let alone forget-me-nots.” His tone was mournful as he mindlessly babbled, but Dean was starting to relax slightly, so he continued. “If I am ever able to afford to move out, I think I would like to own a home that allows me to have a garden and cultivate my own honey. Somewhere quiet.”

There was a vague groaning noise, and Dean’s breathing hitched. Castiel shushed him gently, impulsively placing a small kiss on Dean’s forehead and hugging him. “Feeling any better?”

Dean’s breathing grew less ragged as he nodded, holding onto Castiel for all he was worth. “I. Fucking. Hate. Elevators,” he huffed, and Castiel shifted so that Dean was able to rest his head on Castiel’s shoulder, surprisingly childlike for such a large man.

“Why don’t you tell me about your brother?” Castiel asked. Anything to keep Dean from panicking.

“Sammy’s awesome. Smart. In college. Stanford. Gonna be a lawyer.” Dean mumbled into the fabric of Castiel’s trench coat – which was, unexpectedly, soft and giving off a faint hint of apples and cinnamon. “Baby brother. Had to raise the genius after Mom and Dad died.”

“How come?” Castiel’s arm crept over Dean’s shoulders into a more comfortable position, his thumb rubbing small circles into the muscled bicep he found there.

“Car accident. They were picking us up from school, we were gonna surprise Sammy with a trip to Disneyland. I was 17, he was 7. Got totalled by a goddamn semi as we were about to hit the freeway. Mom and Dad died instantly. Sammy was unconscious for most of it. I…I was awake the whole time. Stuck in the backseat. All I could do was make sure my brother was okay, couldn’t get out, couldn’t call for help, couldn’t get out, stuck in my seat watching my dead parents and my baby brother and _the car caught fire and I want my mom–“_ he was cut off by Castiel brushing a warm hand over his face.

“Sssh, it’s okay. I’m here. Tell me about your job.”

Dean took a deep shuddering breath, fists clenching and unclenching as he allowed Castiel to comfort him. 

“Mechanic. Uncle Bobby. Took in me ‘n’ Sammy, been working there getting Sammy’s college fund ever since. Sam’s gonna be a bit hotshot lawyer, pride of the family.” Unknowingly, his fists curled into Castiel’s shirt as he tucked himself under the other man’s arm even further, craving comfort to stave off the encroaching panic. “I ain’t got nothin’ else,” he mumbled.

Castiel’s heart broke a little at these words, at the way Dean spoke about himself. “Your job is incredible, Dean. People’s lives are potentially in your hands. I’m sure you’re amazing at your job, just as you were amazing at raising a young man like your brother. You should be proud of yourself.”

Dean shrugged.

“I mean it. And I am sorry about my rudeness before.” His apology was slightly stilted, but heartfelt, and Dean actually raised his head to look at him properly.

“It’s um. It’s cool,” he said softly, momentarily distracted by just how blue Castiel’s eyes were, how close they were, how inviting his mouth was…

A low crunch interrupted whatever he’d been about to do, and he clutched at Castiel with newfound fear. Castiel pulled him even closer, so that Dean’s legs were partially slung over his lap with the blonde’s head nestled into his chest.

“It’s just the workmen, Dean, coming to get us out,” he soothed. Dean nodded, scared that if he spoke he would babble incoherent nonsense. Castiel began to hum the first thing that popped into his head, low voice becoming a deep rumble that shivered through Dean’s body.

 _“Na, na na na na na na, na na na na, hey Jude,”_ he sang quietly. Dean visibly relaxed and closed his eyes, so Castiel took it as a sign to continue. He sang snatches of the song at random, unable to properly remember the order they came in – although he didn’t suppose it really mattered, given Dean’s current state.

“Mom used to sing this,” Dean said unexpectedly, quietly. Castiel stopped.

“Sorry.”

“No. Keep going.” Dean snuggled closer, taking comfort in the sheer presence of Castiel’s body, and how perfectly it caved around him, accommodating and consoling. He hung onto this as there was another ominous groan, and Castiel continued singing.

_“The minute you let her under your skin, then you begin to make it better. And anytime you feel the pain, hey Jude, refrain don’t carry the world upon your shoulders…”_

He kept singing, and soon the elevator began to slowly lift a few centimetres at a time. Dean, too exhausted and strung out, simply sighed and stayed where he was. Castiel kept humming, running a hand up and down Dean’s arm, both of them with their eyes closed. Finally, at long last, the doors were shoved open with heavy grunts, and a bearded face with twinkling blue eyes poked itself in. The floor was about halfway up the elevator door, showing a glimpse onto the dingy fourth floor corridor the pair lived on. Castiel smiled at their rescuer weakly. 

“Hey, y’all, sorry ‘bout the wait,” the man said cheerily. “Come on, let’s get you two lovebirds outta here.”

Dean groaned, and Castiel helped him move his heavy limbs out through the space provided onto the carpeted floor, where he rolled onto his back and breathed in the fresh air like a dying man. 

“Get Cas out,” was all he said. Soon enough, Castiel was lying next to him, both of them staring at the yellowed ceiling.

“Thank you,” he said, looking up at the man, who was in a bright orange vest. The man tipped his plastic workman’s hat at them.>

“Just doin’ my job, sir. Name’s Benny. Your friend okay?” he asked, nodding at where Dean still had his eyes shut and was gripping Castiel’s hand like his life depended on it. Castiel nodded.

“He will be. I’ll get him inside.”

Benny nodded and left, and eventually Castiel managed to get Dean inside his sparse apartment. When he had located Dean’s bedroom – laden with books stacked against the walls, bare of any furniture that wasn’t strictly necessary – he sighed before laying Dean down on the bed.

“Is there anything you need?” he asked quietly. Dean looked at him.

“The past hour of my life erased so I don’t feel like a complete ass whenever I see you?”

“Dean.”

“Nah. I’m fine. I’m cool. It’s okay. I’ll just.” Those large hands were unconsciously clutching at the sheets beneath him, and Castiel – without saying word – unlaced Dean’s boots before removing them, moving up the bed so that he was able to help Dean out of his jacket and plaid shirt that was over a black tee. He then shrugged off his own shoes and jacket so that he was in his white blouse and black slacks, lying down next to Dean.

The mechanic blinked at him. “Um?”

“You are not okay. I will be here until you are. Sleep.” Castiel took Dean’s hand in his own, and settled so that he was comfortable. “You need it, and so do I.”

Dean, unable to think of anything to say, did as he asked.

When they woke up a few hours later, to the night sky and the glow of lampposts outside, they were curled up tightly into one another, legs interlocking as Castiel’s chest was closely pressed against Dean’s back, lips brushing the back of the blonde man’s head with their hands intertwined on Dean’s chest. They simply gave each other bashful smiles. Dean, restored to his – albeit more subdued – normal self, cooked up a plate of pasta each, and the rest of the night was spent watching Dr Sexy on the couch before they collapsed in Dean’s bed once more, this time just in their boxers and shirts.

The next day, they both called in to work sick, and when Castiel asked Dean out on a “date that doesn’t involve near-death experiences” Dean happily agreed.

In a month Castiel met Sam, and they were instant friends, much to Dean’s delight.

After seven months, Dean was able to say the three words he’d never been able to say to anyone since the deaths of his parents, and Castiel responded by muttering them back into every inch of Dean’s skin as they made love after.

A year later, the entirety of Dean’s few possessions were in Castiel’s apartment, and they’d never been happier.

They always took the stairs, though.

Two years later, Dean drove a blindfolded Castiel to the quiet suburban neighbourhood twenty minutes from their apartment block, showing him the ramshackle cottage at the end of the lane, with an enormous garden full of wildflowers just waiting for an eager gardener to take care of it. Dean knelt down in the backyard with a ring in his hands and a hopeful look on his face, and Castiel said yes. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts? Kudos?
> 
> Look at the other one?
> 
> TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK OF THIS ONE AND THE OTHER ONE PLEASE.
> 
> And let me know if there are any mistakes - it's unbeta'd, like everything else I write. Also, with regards to Dean's claustrophobia/panic attack - if I did a terrible job representing those I am truly sorry. Just let me know and I'll try fix it.
> 
> my tumblr - secretlyademigodinthetardis.tumblr.com


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